buttons turned into a bird!

Aelin: Who am I? Who am I?! I am the guardian of lost souls. I am the powerful, the pleasurable, the indestructible Aelin.

Lysandra: Uh, my ancestors sent a little lizard to help me?

Aelin: Hey, dragon, dragon, not lizard. I don’t do that tongue thing. *Hiss

Lysandra: You’re um…

Aelin: Intimidating? Awe-inspiring?

Lysandra: Tiny.

This fairly short drabble was inspired by a headcanon I saw by @captainluxiian​ where Cassian and Rhys end up both dressing as Batman for Halloween and end up fighting about it.

I took some liberties while writing, and ultimately couldn’t help but put a little Nessian in there for y’all. I hope you enjoy! As always, tags are at the bottom, and if you’d like to be tagged in any of my future fics, let me know :)

Cassian loved Halloween. Loved. As a child, he spent every October 31st roaming the streets of Velaris in search of the house with the best candy—he always searched for those houses, few and far between, who gave out the full-size candy bars. Those were his favorite. His brothers, Azriel and Rhysand, would accompany him, the three having coordinated costumes for every year they went on their quest for candy.

And year after year, it was a tradition between them. They’d go out, get their treats, and spend the rest of the night trading and feeling the rush of sugar through their blood. As they got older, though, Azriel and Rhysand stopped being so eager to trick-or-treat, instead favoring the chance to hand out treats to young children. When he’d get them to come out, though, Cassian would find himself skipping from house to house, having to drag his brothers behind him.

“Come on, guys, candy!” He’d yell eagerly, waving his hand for them to follow.

Azriel would roll his eyes, allowing to Rhys to speak for them both when he responded, “we’re thirteen. Aren’t we getting a little old for this?”

Cassian would sulk, his brothers noticing and running up to him, leading the way to the next house. So he would happily continue, anxiously awaiting the treats to come and not even thinking twice about his brother’s hesitation. Sure, it might’ve been a little childish to be trick or treating at their age, but…if Cassian enjoyed it, Rhys and Az could handle it. It wasn’t like anyone would see them, anyway.

It didn’t take long for Cassian to catch on to Rhys and Az’s games, and he soon gave up the trick-or-treating in exchange for massive, haunting Halloween parties—costume contests, apple-bobbing, and all. After their first party, it became a tradition for Cassian. A party every year, always on October 31st. No earlier, no later.

Cassian sat on the counter of his college apartment, reminiscing about past Halloween escapades, when Azriel and Rhysand—brothers and roommates, now—walked in with bags upon bags of decorations. Cobwebs? Check. Candy bowl with that mechanical hand? Check. Witch’s cauldron? Check. Other cool looking decorations? Most likely, check. He didn’t feel like looking through everything right now, and his brothers wouldn’t have left anything out.

“You guys went all out this year with decorations, didn’t you,” Cassian said, taking out the cobwebs and playing with their silky texture.

“Always do,” Rhys said with a wink.

Azriel nodded in agreement, smiling.

“Also,” Rhys added, dragging a hand through his hair, “Feyre told me she’d be coming to the party tonight, and—”

Cassian interjected eagerly. “Is Nesta coming?”

“If you’d let me finish, brother, I would’ve told you,” said Rhys, rolling his eyes.

Azriel laughed softly, answering Cassian for his brother. “Feyre told Rhys she’d be there, but no promises about Nesta. Or Elain.”

Nesta had captured Cassian’s attention since Feyre had introduced him. Her devastating beauty—coupled with her sharp tongue—utterly entranced him. Cassian was still unsure whether she felt anything for him but…he had a gut feeling. If she wasn’t ready for him, wasn’t ready to let herself feel anything for him…Cassian could wait. Would wait. He’d bide his time, playing her games until she was ready for him. And the Cauldron only knew that he’d wait his entire life for her. For her sharp, blue-gray eyes even sharper wit. If Nesta showed up tonight, well, for Cassian, that’d be like winning the damn lottery.

Cassian let himself smile—let himself hope that Nesta would be in attendance tonight.

“Let’s start setting up.”

The apartment Cassian shared with his brothers was as close to a haunted house as a one floor apartment could be. Cobwebs hung from the ceilings, off of the tables, and over the doors; Azriel had taken it upon himself to place eerily realistic-looking plastic spiders on the webs, much to Rhys’s dismay.

“It’ll look more realistic,” Azriel claimed.

“It’ll scare people,” Rhys countered.

“You mean it’ll scare you.”

“Can you two stop fighting? Az, the spiders are a great addition. Rhys, get over it. Now keep decorating. It needs to be perfect,” chimed Cassian, hanging up streamers of orange and black on the doors and the walls, sticking fake eyeballs and bones to the streamers for “added flair,” as he liked to say.

Tonight couldn’t just be a standard Halloween party. No, if there was a chance of Nesta showing up, it had to be perfect. Everything had to be in order, from the mixed drinks and jell-o shots to the witch’s brew they were making in the cauldrons, which was, really, a glorified punch bowl filled with vodka and cranberry juice—to look like blood, Cassian said.

But for Cass, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t matter how many bowls of candy they had, how many skeletons hung about the room, or how haunted the place looked; if Nesta didn’t show up, he’d think this all a waste. So he hoped that it was enough, sent a silent prayer to the Cauldron that Feyre could drag her out tonight, and went to put on his costume.

Cassian eyed himself in the mirror, flexing his muscles a bit as he gawked at the costume he had on. Batman had been his favorite hero since he was a child, and now that he was older, he could finally wear the costume of his dreams, without the fake muscles, of course. He didn’t need them; he filled out the costume just fine with his chiseled figure. He looked…fine. Better than fine, actually. He looked hot. He gave himself a smirk in the mirror, taking in his muscled chest, the armor hugging it tight. Finding a costume this detailed and accurate to the hero…it was like living his childhood dream, though it cost him a little more than he’d like to admit.

He grabbed his cowl from the desk, and sauntered out and into the living room, his cape swaying side to side as he walked.

Rhys was lying on the couch, costume and all, and…Cassian scowled, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

“You need to change,” Cassian demanded.

“No.”

“We AGREED on a costume theme this year—”

“You never specified who you were dressing up as,” Rhys said, his voice calm. This only riled Cassian further.

“Well I ASSUMED—”

Rhys turned his head to look at Cassian, his brother’s face red with rate. “You know what they say about assumptions, brother.”

“Prick. Now go change.”

“No,” said Rhys, and went back to lounging on the couch.

Cassian stalked up to his brother, forcing him upright. Their costumes matched detail-for-detail. Batman versus Batman.

“Nesta’s coming tonight. What if she—”

“She won’t mistake you for me,” he said, laughing, “if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, it’s just that—”

“Cassian, it’s a costume. Feyre’s supposed to be my Catwoman, anyway. Just relax.”

“But I’M BATMAN,” yelled Cassian, stalking off to pour himself a drink.

“You don’t have it copyrighted,” he said, adding, “will you stop being such a child?”

“I thought we’d agreed—” hearing the door open, Cassian traded his anger for laughter as Azriel walked in, costume on. Rhys soon joined him, their argument now just a memory as tears streamed down both of their faces, crying of sheer laughter.

“What…what’s so funny?” Asked Azriel to his brothers, who were clenching their stomachs, doubled over in laughter.

Azriel closed the door and went to look himself in the mirror. What was so funny? He was Robin. Cassian had asked him to be the Robin to his Batman months ago, and he was happy to oblige. His dark hair matched perfectly, the mask fitting over his hazel eyes, and…he couldn’t exactly find an outfit like Cassian’s, with layers of armor and mystery, but…he made do with what the store had. The clerk had said that this was exactly what Robin wore. And he had no experience with Batman like Cassian did, so…well, he trusted the clerk.

“Your legs are bare,” Rhys said in between laughs.

It was true. While Cassian—and Rhys, much to Azriel’s amusement—were decked out in full armor, Azriel’s costume felt more like a joke. A cruel, cruel joke. His “costume” was little more than a green t-shirt with a red vest, a yellow ‘R’ plastered on the left breast. The green gloves, yellow cape, and mask were standard, but…his pants…well, the pants were nonexistent, the costume opting for a briefs-type feel—the green underwear leaving virtually nothing to the imagination.

“Azriel, where did you get this?” Cassian said, cackling.

“The costume shop lady told me this was the Robin costume,” he muttered, his cheeks turning red.

“Oh it’s the Robin costume alright, just not the one you wanted,” Cassian teased, unable to stop his laughs from escaping.

“Is it too late to…”

A knock came from the door. “Looks like it’s too late to change, brother,” said Rhys, and opened the door to find Feyre and Nesta across the threshold.

“Hello, Feyre darling,” Rhys purred, giving his girlfriend a kiss, “I see you dressed up for me…though I distinctly remember you telling me about a Catwoman costume?”

Indeed she had. She told Rhys a couple weeks ago that she was just dying to wear the Catwoman costume she found at the store—little more than a latex bodysuit, a mask, heels, and a whip—so he’d agreed to be her Batman. But now, instead of that latex bodysuit, Feyre had on a dress of purple and green, accompanied by a green wig in pigtails, and bloodred lips and paled skin.

“I changed my mind,” she said, turning to Nesta, “plus, my sister tried it on a few days ago and it looked better on her, so I figured I’d let her wear it tonight.”

“Well you’re the most beautiful Joker this Batman’s ever seen,” he said, pulling her away from her sister and into the apartment.

“Nes—Nesta,” Cassian breathed. She was here. Here. With him. Right now. Here.

And she was Catwoman. If she was devastatingly beautiful on a normal today…in that suit, Cauldron, she was deadly. She could send men to their graves with one smile.

“Are you going to stop drooling, or should I close your mouth for you,” she snapped, stepping closer to him.

It took all the effort in the world to make his words even as he said, “aren’t I allowed to admire a beautiful woman?”

Nesta snorted, ignoring the compliment. “I see you’re my Batman for the evening.”

“And you my Catwoman.”

“Seems fitting, doesn’t it?” She replied.

“What do you know about Batman and Catwoman?” He asked.

“More than you’d think.”

Cassian eyes widened, unable to hide his surprise. “I didn’t know you liked comics.”

“There’s a lot about me that you don’t know, bat-boy,” she said, her blue-gray eyes meeting his, as if she wanted to tell him more, but wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not yet.

“Well then, Nesta,” said Cassian, taking her hand and kissing it lightly, “why don’t you tell me?”

She gave him a slight smile and let him lead her into the party.

I hope you enjoyed this drabble, and if you have any prompts/headcanons/ideas you’d like to see me write, just send ‘em on over my way!